Compilation of Less Depressing Favorite Stories

Explosives / PJO-TLO Part Two

I remember shooting upwards, hundred feet in the air over the ocean. It was a really horrendous time to remember that water turns solid and will break every bone in your body, if not kill you, at a drop from six hundred feet in the air. It would be similar to jumping off a crane and falling onto the pavement.

I free-fell through the air, repeating to myself how there wasn't a plan for this, wasn't a plan for this...

At about two hundred feet, I closed my eyes. I dropped, twenty five feet at a time. Falling, falling until I felt a soft blanket of liquid encase me and gently pull me under sea level. I saw a blurry figure. Was it Jackson? How would I know? I passed out right then and there.

I woke on the shore of Long Island sound, the scent of the salty air off the Atlantic ocean filling my lungs. The beach I laid on looked like it was maybe a few miles away from camp. I wanted to make my way there, so I tried to stand up. A searing pain ran up my leg, forcing me to remain seated on the sand. A spare piece of driftwood was conveniently placed not too far from me, five feet away. I hobbled to the boardwalk. Strange, a fancy boardwalk like this couldn't possibly end up on Long Island, could it?

It was empty today, the boardwalk. I think usually it's crowded with people, especially at this time of day. Judging by Apollo's location in the sky... the length of the shadows... about two o'clock in the afternoon. But instead of being full of people enjoying a day out, the whole thing was abandoned for miles, as far as the eye could see. Then, out of a side shop, came a man staggering out, about in his mid-forties, I would say.

"Uh, excuse me, sir?" I said, doing my best at attempting to stand and walk over. "Sir, how far is Delphi Strawberries Headquarters?" The strawberry business was a way of in come for the camp, as well as a cover name in case we ever needed to take a truckload of demigods somewhere unnoticed.

The man laughed drunkily. "Delphi Strawberries? Son, that's a Long Island company."

"Is this not Long Island, sir?"

The man walked over to me, sat on the bench and gestured for me to take a seat. I took a seat. "Long Island? Kid, you've landed yourself in Florida!" he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and waved the other hand up at the sky, as if to say to enjoy the view of the Floridian airspace.

"Uh, thank you, sir, for helping me, but I really need to get going-" I tried to wiggle out of the man's grasp, but for a Florida drunk, he had a tight grip on my shoulders.
"Now, now, kid. I'm sure you don't really need to be somewhere if you asked if this was Long Island, you're miles away! Even if you hop on a plane now, it'll still take ya two hours to get where yer goin'! Stay a while! I'll introduce you to my friends! Get that leg o' your's fixed up!"

"Thank you for the offer, sir, but now I have my bearings and I have, in fact, been to Florida before and I know where to find my friends." I said, desperately trying to get out of there.

"Oh, really now?" The man dug into his pocket and brought out his wallet, where he took my hand and slapped a $100 bill in it. "Use it well, kiddo. I wish you well on your journey to the good ol' LI."

I stared at the bill in disbelief. "Thank you, sir, I will."

The throbbing in my leg ceased to stop, but I forced down my pain and started toward the nearest CVS I could find. It wasn't easy, but after a half hour of walking I finally found it. On Lincoln Road, Miami Beach, Florida, I found out later. I walked in, and there, restocking the Sally Hansen Insta-Dri Glow-in-the-Dark nail polishes, was my bestest friend from camp. Joseph Friggo.